purity test

Anisha Arvind, United States

i catch myself checking / whether my hands are right when i light the diya / whether my pronunciation is clean enough to be heard by god or just approximate / a tourist's guess

[you are doing it wrong] says the voice that lives behind my sternum, the one i did not invite in but fed anyway / the one that sounds like no one & everyone i have ever wanted approval from

i have memorized the rules of a devotion i inherited secondhand / the right oil, the right hour, the right way to fold the body into something acceptable

but my grandmother's hands never shook like this / she just lit the flame

[you are not enough of what you are] says the voice & i believe it / the way you believe something you've heard so long it has started to sound like memory

what i know is:

the turmeric still stains / whether or not i say the words right / the body still bows in the direction of something larger / the flame doesn't ask for my credentials before it burns

what i am learning is:

that the voice is not god / that god, if anything, sounds like my grandmother humming / unchecked & not trying to be anything but present

that devotion is not a test i can pass or fail. it is just the diya & the oil & my imperfect still-burning hands.

Anisha Arvind is a 34-time recipient of the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and has been recognized by Hollins University and Polyphony Lit's AAPI Heritage Contest. Her work often explores queer identity and cultural inheritance through the lens of her Marathi and Tamilian heritage. When she isn't writing, she can usually be found collecting poetry books or searching for the perfect bubble tea place.